


That Wayward Winchester Sister

by ToscaRossetti



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, Corporal Punishment, Crying, Disciplinary spanking of children and teens, Fluff, Gen, Ghosts, Harvelle's Roadhouse, Humor, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Spanking, Paddling, Research, Spanking, Supernatural Elements, Wee!chesters, daughterfic, spanking with a belt, teen!chesters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-07 15:11:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15221897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToscaRossetti/pseuds/ToscaRossetti
Summary: Meet Cat Winchester, little sister of Sam and Dean. She is wayward, and gets herself into a lot of trouble! A multi-chapter discipline fic.





	1. The Ghost Hunt That Wasn't

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of chapter 14 in the Supernatural Discipline Imagines story. I was inspired by those of you who liked the Johnxdaughterfic that I wrote, so here goes! Introducing Cat Winchester, younger sister of Sam and Dean. She's 2 years younger than Sam. Each chapter will be about Cat at a different age, which will be noted at the beginning of each fic. Sometimes a story arc may be a couple chapters long, but most will be one chapter. I hope you enjoy reading about her exploits with the Winchester men! There will be disciplinary spanking of children and teenagers in these fics, and different implements will be used. This is an AU where John spanks his children no matter how old they are. If you don't like to read about spanking, then hit the back button and go in peace.  
> And huge THANK YOU to my betas, Edge_of-Clairvoyance and CrazedPanda- thank you for encouraging me and letting me bounce ideas off of you, as well as beta-ing!  
> ***********

Cat: 12 years old, Sam: 14 years old, Dean: 18 years old

Content warning: There is spanking and paddling in this chapter.

* ~ * ~ *

“The story goes that one night, Mary Cartwright came home from a church meeting and discovered her husband having an affair with another woman. In a fit of rage, she murdered both of them, beating them with the poker from the fireplace. When she came to, she was so upset about what she'd done, that she hanged herself. She stood on a chair in the front room, right in front of the big picture window, so everyone would be able to see her. And somehow, all her kicking made the chair crash into the window, and then her body ended up hanging partway outside. Then there was a huge thunderstorm, and lightning struck nearby, starting a fire. All the people riding by on horseback started to notice the body hanging there, and eventually someone came back and found her. Sometimes during thunderstorms, when you drive by, you can see the body hanging in front of the window. And that...is the origin...of the Legend of Hanging Mary.” Alan looked around at everyone.

“Well, somethin' better happen, I drove a long way to see the ghost of this crazy hangin' chick,” Steve drawled, shifting the toothpick in his mouth.

The girls tittered with nervous laughter. “Steve!” Marley exclaimed in a shocked voice, and smacked his arm.

“Well, should we start looking for her? How do we do that?” Kayla looked around.

“With this,” I pulled the EMF meter out of my pocket and turned it on. All the lights glowed red for a moment as the machine buzzed and squealed.

“Wow, what is that, Cat?” Marley tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned over.

“Cool!” Kayla said.

“It's called an EMF meter. It measures electric fields that are emitted by electrically charged things. Ghosts have an electrical field just like humans,” I told them, proud of my knowledge.

“How the hell did you get ahold of that?” Steve eyed me skeptically.

“Well, my—my father knows a guy,” I said hurriedly. I didn't want to get into all that- I didn't want to  risk blowing my family' cover. If I told my friends what my dad really did- that he hunted down and killed all sorts of supernatural creatures and entities, and that he'd trained my brothers and me to help him—they'd think we were all nuts.

I held the EMF out in front of me. “What room did the murders occur in?” I asked.

Steve chuckled. “Listen to her, sounding all official-like.”

I bristled. “If we go to the spots where something happened, we're more likely to get a reading,” I explained.

“How do you know that?” Alan asked.

“Uh, it was- the guy explained it, he showed us how it worked.” I told him. “Can we go now, and look for this thing?”

“Your Dad knows a guy, huh? Who else does he know, Bigfoot? The Mothman?” Steve snarked as we began to walk, and the girls giggled again.

“Well, if the wife came home and found her husband doin' the wild thing with his lady, they were probably in the bedroom--” Steve said, and Alan guffawed, “The wild thing!”

We had walked down a hallway and ended up in a large room with a picture window at one end. Broken down furniture littered the room, a sagging, dusty sofa with holes chewed in the fabric, battered tables and desks, some of which had been broken into pieces.

“Is that the window?” Kayla pointed, “The one she fell out of, I mean?”

“Probably,” Steve said, and he walked towards it. “Hey, crazy lady, you around?” he called out.

“Shh!” Marley hissed. Steve frowned at her. “What?”

“Show some respect for the dead!” Marley frowned back at him.

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes. “It's not like she's around and can hear me!”

“Are you cold? I'm cold,” Marley shivered suddenly, and wrapped her jacket around herself.

“I'll warm you up, baby,” Alan stepped over to her and put his hands on her shoulders.

I noticed that the temperature in the room had dropped, and I was shivering now too. Oh crap. I'd never been on a ghost hunt yet, but my brothers had told me so much about theirs that I knew what to expect. This was it!

I adjusted the dials and walked forward, holding the EMF meter out again. It lit up and started squeaking. Everyone stopped moving, and it became silent in the room.

The device began to warble more insistently, and the lights flashed.

“Oh shit, what does that mean, Cat?” Alan breathed.

I looked over at my friends, all huddled together now. I could see their breath coming out of their mouths in white puffs.

“Something's close,” I whispered.

“Ohhh, I don't like this,” Kayla whined, clutching at Marley's arm.

We could hear the sound of wood creaking. My stomach had nervous butterflies in it, and my heart was pounding.

All of a sudden there was movement over at the door. “WHO'S THERE!” a voice yelled, and everyone screamed.

A man stood in the doorway holding a shotgun. “The hell are you kids doin' ?” he growled after he'd stared everyone down. He walked over to us and looked everyone over. He looked familiar to me.

“We just, uh, came out, to, uh--” Alan started.

The EMF meter blipped a couple of times, and the man turned his attention to me. “Well that's a fancy piece of equipment for a bunch a' kids. Wait-- I know you!” he stepped closer to me. “You're Winchester's girl, ain't ya?”

“Uh--” I squirmed, feeling my face get red. “Yeah.”

“What the hell're you doin' out here? Does your Daddy know what you're doin'?”

“Umm--”

“We got just as much a right to be here as you, mister! This is public property!” Steve said hotly.

The hunter smirked at him. “No it ain't, kid. Didn't ya see the 'No Trespassin'' signs outside? And I'd wager that none o' you have much knowledge about ghosts-- if at all. Now, y'all need to--”

The EMF meter interrupted him, going crazy, lights flashing and squealing. It felt even colder, and there seemed to be an electrical charge in the air.

“What the--” someone whispered.

We all saw the shimmering across the room, and then it coalesced into the shape of a human, and flickered and became stronger. It was a woman, wearing an old-fashioned looking dark gown, high neckline, puffed sleeves, full skirt-- and she wrung her hands as she moved across the floor.

“Ho-ly shit,” Steve breathed.

There wa a low moaning in the air, and the sound of whispering. It sounded like it was coming from all the corners of the room. We watched the woman cross the room, and she reached out her hands and pulled something towards the window--

The shotgun blast rang out in the room and all of us yelled, clamping our hands over our ears.

“Jesus, man, warn us next time!” Steve snapped as the hunter lowered his gun.

“Wh-what'd you do that for, mister?” Marley asked shakily.

“Rock salt. Gets rid 'a the ghost for a time. Now, I suggest you all git yourselves outta here now, before the energy starts to gather together again. I ain't sure what kinda haunting this is, but if she's pissed, she may try'n come after one of ya's,” the hunter pointed at me, “'Cept you, you stay here, so's I can call your daddy.”

“Um, that's okay, I'll just, uh, go with my friends--” I said weakly, and he shook his head.

“No can do, kid. I ain't letting you walk away from a scene. Let's go.”

We followed him down the stairs and out to the front driveway. My friends got into Steve's car.

Kayla looked at me. “You want us to stay with you?”

Marley looked over. “Kayla, we can't stay, we need to get back before Mom and Dad start to worry.”

“You gonna be okay?” Kayla peered at the hunter.

“Yeah, I'll be fine,” I said with a false assurance I didn't feel. I watched as they drove away.

The hunter walked several feet away from me and pulled out his cell phone. He spent a few minutes talking, and then walked over to me. “Your Daddy's on his way. Turns out he wasn't too far away.”

“Oh,” I said. I wondered who he was with. He'd gone out yesterday, telling us that he was going to help someone with research, and he'd probably be staying there for the weekend. We took that to mean it was another hunter, and they'd probably be drinking their way through a couple cases of beer in the evenings.

I sat down on the bottom step of the porch, and shoved my hands into my pockets.

“Your Daddy okay with you huntin’?” the hunter asked.

“No sir.” I shook my head.

“Well...” he blew out a breath and looked chagrined. “He weren't too happy when I told him I'd met up with ya.”

“Yeah, my ass is grass,” I said glumly.

He guffawed, and walked away from me, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

* ~ * ~ *  
I watched Dad hold out his hand to shake the other hunter's hand, and they nodded. The hunter looked over at me huddled next to my Dad's truck, and nodded, and I gave a half- hearted wave.

Dad stalked over and unlocked and opened my door. “Get in the truck,” he said tersely.

I climbed up into his giant truck and buckled myself in, preparing myself for what was coming.

Dad got in and put the key in the ignition, but didn't turn it. He stared straight ahead for a long moment, and then rubbed a hand over his face. He leaned over and started the engine, and the truck rumbled to life.

“Report,” he said. That meant tell Dad everything, no excuses, no lying, no waffling- tell him the truth of exactly what you did and what went down.

He turned the car around in the driveway and then eased out onto the gravel road that led to the highway.

“I—I--uh--” I stuttered, trying to think of the best way to start. I was realizing just now, how much deep shit I'd gotten myself into. This was the first time I'd done this, snuck out on my own on a hunt. I was in for it.

“Cat, report,” Dad repeated in a hard voice, and he frowned. John Winchester did not like to repeat himself.

“I, um, we went to this place, y'know, to check it out--”

He glanced over at me. “No, from the beginning, little girl.”

Crap. Dad only called me little girl when he was seriously pissed off at me. I took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. “Well, see, my friends asked me, we were talking, and they--”

“Cathleen. Mary. Winchester.” his voice was like stone now, and I could practically feel his anger vibrating between us.

I did not want to say this. I didn't want to seal my fate, knowing I was going to end up getting a serious Winchester butt-roasting. How did my brothers get through this part, explaining just what they did wrong, knowing that every sentence was making it worse for their butt?

I took a deep breath and stared straight ahead, relaying the facts. “We—some kids started talking about ghosts 'n stuff at lunch, and then someone mentioned the legend of Hanging Mary, and then I was talking to my friend Kayla later, and she said her sister was gonna go check it out, so I said I had some stuff that would help find a ghost--” I became aware that I was babbling.

“ 'Stuff that would help find a ghost',” he shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment, “At least you sounded like a dumb civilian. When was this planned?”

I folded my fingers together. “Umm, we talked about it at school on like Thursday, so...we made plans on Friday.”

“So you knew you were going to be doing this when I left yesterday. When your brothers made their plans for the weekend.”

“Yeah. Um, yes sir.”

“Did your brothers know about your—little excursion?” he asked.

“Um...no,” I looked down at my hands in my lap.

“And the EMF?”

“I—I snuck it out of the trunk—of the Impala,” I admitted.

“Dammit, Cat!” he slammed his hand on the steering wheel. “How many times have I told you, you are not to go into the trunk and take equipment out?”

I jumped. “Sorry, sir.”

He sighed angrily. “You were with a group of kids- was this to impress a boy?”

“What? No, gross! The boys were older anyways, Kayla's sister's boyfriend and his friend.”

He shook his head again, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “God-dammit,” he muttered.

“Dad, it's not-- it's not fair!” I burst out. “The guys got to start hunting when they were younger than me! Why won't you let me hunt with you?”

He glanced at me and I saw that his brown eyes were intense with anger. “Because, young lady, you're still not ready!”

“I am so!” I insisted stubbornly.

“I will make that decision, not you! I'm the one in charge here, not you! You're supposed to be keeping your head down and doing what you're told! Not stealing equipment and sneaking off to a haunted house!”

“I didn't steal it, I—I just borrowed it!”

“You think Dean's gonna see it that way, when he learns that you went in the trunk of his baby and took his EMF out without permission?”

I blushed. “Uh—no.”

The tension was thick in the air now. “Dad, I'm sorry,” I said again, “Can't you please at least think about bringing me along for a hunt? Even to just gank a ghost?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Really? You're gonna try and convince me to let you hunt, when you just got yourself in a shitload of trouble?” he shook his head. “You are something else, little girl. And, you just proved that you're not ready to hunt, with this little stunt. You sneak out, and take things out of the trunk without permission? Put yourself and your friends in danger? I can't trust you. I can't trust you on a hunt, and you're going to have to work to re-build that trust now.”

Tears stung my eyes. I hadn't even thought of that. And he was right- hunters had to be able to trust each other, that they were being honest, that they would do the right thing, that they had each other's backs. And I'd not been honest, and done the wrong things. I was screwed.

I sighed heavily and crossed my arms over my chest, sinking down into the seat as the tears started flowing.

Dad glanced over again and noticed my tears. “Just getting how much trouble you're in?”

I gulped. “Yessir,” I muttered, looking out the window. I didn't want him see me crying. I felt ashamed of myself now. I had royally messed up. Here I was thinking cool, I'm taking the initiative, Dad and Dean will be really impressed with me, but now I saw that I'd been stupid. We hadn't even done any research on the house first. We'd gone in basically blind, only going on the local lore. That was what civilians did, they rushed headlong into things like that. Because they didn't know any better. But I knew. Why had I done this? I wanted to impress my friends, have a cool story to talk about, and impress my dad so much that he'd start taking me with him. And instead I had gotten myself in deep shit with my dad, and probably my brother too.

Dad's phone rang, and he glance at it before answering. “It's Dean,” he said. “Hello?” He listened for a moment. “Dean—Dean, it's okay, she's with me. Yes. She's okay. She and some friends decided to go out ghost-hunting. Carlson ended up being there too, he recognized her, and called me. Yeah. Nothing happened, no-one's injured. We're on the way back to the motel now. All right. Yeah, bye.” he disconnected the call.

“Sam just got in, and panicked when you weren't there. He called Dean to see if maybe you'd gone out with him. You just scared the crap out of your brothers.”

Now I felt even worse. They were both going to be mad at me. Sam had gone out to a study group with his friends, and Dean had gone out to play pool. I had figured that they'd both be gone for at least a couple of hours, so it wouldn't matter that I wasn't there. I hadn't thought ahead, though-- they'd most likely get back before I did. The haunted house had been about 2 hours away from where we were staying, and Sam wouldn't be out for that long. He'd get back to the room and find it empty, and of course he'd panic.

Now neither of them was going to trust me either. I started to cry harder.

Dad pulled a bandanna out of his jacket and handed it over to me so I could wipe my tears.

By the time we pulled into the motel parking lot, my tears had dried up, but I was still miserable. I was tired now, but awake with nervousness. Knowing you're going to get your butt walloped by John Winchester has that effect.

Dad unlocked the door and pushed it open. Sam was on the sofa, and he stood up as we came in. “Cat, what the hell?” he started.

“Sam, I'm dealing with it. Cat, get the paddle, and find a corner in the bedroom.” Dad directed me.

“Yessir,” I mumbled, trudging into the other room.

I went over to his duffle and unzipped the pocket that the paddle was in, and then carried it over to the bed and set it down on the end. Then I pulled off my coat and laid it over the chair, and heeled off my shoes. Then I walked to the far corner and stood there facing it.

I hated this part too. My stomach twisted in anticipation, and I started sweating with nerves. You were supposed to “think about what you'd done” while in the corner, but I'd been thinking about it the whole way back. I was worn out and just wanted to forget everything and crawl into bed.

I heard footsteps come into the room, and the squeak of bedsprings.

“Cat, come here.”

I took a deep breath--this was it, I was gonna Get It. Tears came to my eyes again as I turned.

Dad was sitting on the end of the bed, having removed his jacket and flannel. I walked over to him and stood in front of him, lowering my head.

“Dad, m'sorry,” I pleaded, sniffling. I felt like crap, embarrassed by my stupid behavior, and ashamed that I’d thought it was a good idea.

He reached out and unbuttoned my jeans, and then tugged them down to mid-thigh. Then he straightened up and gestured to his lap. “Over.”

I steeled myself for what was to come, and lowered myself over his knees. My torso rested on the bed, and I reached out and took hold of the gross polyester comforter. 

Dad pulled my jeans down further, til they were around my knees, and then adjusted me on his lap. “Why are we here?” he asked.

“Be-because I s--snuck out, I snuck out with my f--friends, and I—I went on a ghost hunt, and I—I took equipment without permission, and I, I put everyone in d-danger.” My chest was already hitching, and I pressed my face into the fabric to muffle my sob. 

“You know better,” he said sternly, “I know I've taught you better. You don't sneak around, you don't take things without permission, you don't lie, you don't do things to put yourself or others in danger.”

“I know,” I moaned, feeling terrible. I was dreading what was to come, but I knew it would assuage my guilt.

He put his hand on my back, and shifted slightly, and then the swats started to fall. I squeaked, and then yelped, and before long I was crying out after every couple blows. Dad’s hard hand briskly spanked every inch of my panty-clad bottom. I started kicking in earnest when he reached the undercurve- my panties had ridden up, so that the lower parts of my cheeks were hanging out, and it hurt more when his hand struck those spots, like being spanked on the bare.

I kicked my legs so much that my jeans had slid down to my ankles, and Dad leaned over and pulled them all the way off. He sat up and moved me closer to him, and then I felt his fingers in the waistband of my panties. I whimpered as he slid them down off my already sore behind.

He'd already lit my rear up, and I screeched as he started the second go-round. It always amazed me how much protection a little scrap of fabric like panties gave-- when Dad's hand started falling on your bare bottom, the pain was so much worse.

He slapped the same spot over and over, and I whined wordlessly and kicked my feet, and then he moved to a different spot, spanking the opposite cheek again and again, and then went back to the original spot, which had just started to sting less-and that swat re-awakened the sting worse than before.  
“Daddy I'm sorryyyyypleeeeease!” I wailed as he continued to spank me.

His response was to move his legs so that my hips were a little higher, and my rear end was more exposed. He moved his right leg, so that it was propped over my calves, pinning me down, and began to spank the undercurve. I wailed again, truly penitent, as his hard hand fell on the crease where butt met thigh, turning the sting into a fire. I was sorry I'd snuck out, sorry I'd been irresponsible, and sorry I'd lost his trust.

He paused. “Hand me the paddle.”

Oh crap, I'd forgotten all about the paddle, all I could think about was his hand spanking my bare bum over and over--

I turned, looking over my shoulder at him. “Daddy—please--?” I implored. 

“Cat. The paddle.” he said in a hard voice.

I sniffled and reached for it, handing it back to him, and then buried my face in the blanket.

I felt him clamp his arm over my back and grasp my side, and then I yelled out as the paddle landed.  
He hadn't said anything about a number, usually he told me the number of swats I'd be getting. Normally  it was half my age.

“Dad-- how m-many?” I gasped.

“You disobeyed orders, broke rules, and put yourself in danger, little girl,” he growled, and I realized just how pissed off at me he still was. “I think the full 12 should do it this time.”

The first four swats were right in the middle of my rear, the second four were on the undercurve, and the last four were right on the crease and tops of my thighs. I'd have trouble sitting for a day or so.  
All I could do was lay there and sob aloud as he paddled me. Forget trying not to cry or being quiet like my brothers did. I wasn't a big tough hunter like Dean or a surly teen like Sam, I was just a kid, and I was going to cry like one. I had no energy left to struggle, and the pain and the tears was washing away all my guilt and bad feelings. 

By the time he put the paddle down, my whole rear end felt like an inferno. My breath was heaving out of my chest and my face was a mess of tears and snot. Dad let me lay over his lap as my breathing slowed, rubbing my back and smoothing my hair away from my face.

Finally he leaned forward and pulled my panties up, and then flipped me up to perch gingerly on his thigh. I slid my arms around him and buried my face in his chest, not caring if I got him all messy.

He put his arms around me. “I don't ever want to see you doing that again, Cat,” he said sternly. “You're a smart girl, and I've trained you well enough that you know better. Don't you ever sneak around like that again, you hear me?”

“Y-yes s-sir,” I heaved out.

He rubbed the back of my head. “I'm sure Dean's going to have a few words to say to you tomorrow, about going in the trunk.”

“M'sorry, Daddy,” I murmured.

“I need you to be safe, take care of yourself,” he said, tightening his arms around me.

We sat together for several more minutes, and then he patted my thigh. “Get yourself off to bed now.”

I stood up and wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand. He stood up and hugged me, dropping a kiss on the top of my head. “Good night, Daddy,” I said softly.

“Night, Cat,” he picked up the paddle and took it over to his duffle, sliding it back into its pocket, and left the room.

I picked up my jeans, carrying them to my duffle, and got out the oversized band t-shirt that was Dean's, that I wore as a night-shirt. It came down almost to my knees, so it would hide my reddened butt from everyone.

It took me a while to fall asleep because of the throbbing of my butt, but I eventually did.

* ~ * ~ *

“What do you have to say to me?” Dean frowned at me from where he was sitting at the table. I stood in front of him, my arms crossed behind my back.

“Dean, I, um, I went into the trunk...and I took out your EMF meter and took it with me.”

“God-dammit, Cat,” he snapped, “Did you break it?”

“No! I was careful!” I protested.

He sat up, and leaned towards me. “You're gonna clean my car, inside and out, including the rims, until everything shines. And if it's not perfect, you'll do it all over again.”

“Yessir,” I muttered, my face burning. That was the worst, because Dean didn't trust anyone with his Baby. It meant that I'd be cleaning his car with him hanging over my shoulder and ragging on me if I didn't do everything to his specifications. And he'd fuss if I did something the wrong way.

“You pull something like that again- you sneak out like that and go in the trunk and take shit out- and I'll be roasting your ass after Dad gets done with you, you got me?”

“Yessir,” I nodded.

“Of all the fool-hardy, stupid things-- what the hell were you thinking?”

“Probably ‘cause of a boy,” Sam smirked.

I turned to him. “No it wasn’t! Shut up, Sam!” I snapped hotly.

“All right, stand down, you two,” Dad came over, buttoning up his flannel. “Where are we going to eat this morning?”

His phone began to ring, and he fumbled with it as he finished doing up a button one-handed. He must have pressed the wrong button, because we heard it beep.

“Winchester,” he said.

“Missed you last night, sweethe--” a woman's voice purred.

Dad hit a button on the phone, and turned away from us. He crossed the room with quick strides and walked outside.

All of us stared at each other. “What—the--fuck--” Dean breathed.


	2. The Hunter vs. The Threenager: Bedtime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've heard of the "Terrible Twos"...which morph into the "Terrible Threes" sometimes. The current thinking is that toddlers and teens are similar, hence the name "Threenager" for a three year old! Enjoy the humor and fluff in this chapter.  
> Cat is 3 years old, Sam is 5 years old, Dean is 9 years old  
> ************

John had his feet up on the coffee table, a beer in his hand, ready to settle back and watch a John Wayne movie with his oldest. 

“Sooome...WEEEEEHH...oh- buh da wainBOW...” a little voice sang out.

“Cat, be quiet!” Sam hissed from the bedroom.

“Kyyyy...zar-boo...an dah dweams at you deh to deem we'ee do come TWUUU-”

“Caaat! Stop singing!” Sam's annoyance was evident now. 

“Sooooome...WEEEH--”

“Daaad!” Sam called, and a second later there was the thump of feet hitting the floor. 

Sam appeared in the doorway, hair already tousled, his brows lowered in a frown. “Cat won't shut up an' I'm tryin' to sleep!” 

John glanced at Dean and set his bottle down, going into the bedroom. Sam followed him and stood in the doorway.

The day before, The Wizard of Oz had been on tv, and Cat had immediately become enamored of Dorothy and all the music. Somehow, even at three years old, she could remember lines and songs from movies already. John hoped that she kept that talent as she got older; it would help her as a researcher. 

He walked over and stood at the side of the bed that Cat and Sam shared, folding his arms as he looked down at his youngest. “Cat,” there was a mild reproach in his voice, “You're supposed to be going to sleep.” 

She looked up at him guilessly. “I is, Dada.” 

He shifted his weight. “Then why are you singing?”

She held her hands up, palms out. “I singin' my-sewf tah sweep, Dada. No-one sing to me, an' I need a wuwwa-by,” she explained, as if it was common sense. She had asked them to sing to her, and been refused by all three. John had not been in the mood for singing and a prolonged bedtime routine- the kids would drag things out if he let them. 

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “You've gone to bed every night before this without a lullaby, you don't need one now. You're keeping your brother awake.” 

“But—a wuwwa-by'd hewp him go ny-ny too!” she said perkily. 

The corners of John's lips twitched. This kid was going to be a lawyer when she grew up, he just knew it. “Sam doesn't want a lullaby, he wants to go to sleep. Now, if I have to come in here again, you're going to get a swat. Is that clear?” 

Now Cat frowned- it was like the sun going behind a cloud. “Dada, nooo!”

John's eyebrows went up. His children did not tell him no. “Excuse me, young lady?”

“You say—you say I get a swat if I get outta bed, an' I not outta bed! I in bed, unner da cubbers, see?” she smoothed the blanket over her legs. 

Dear God, she was going to be the death of him. Or at the very least, the cause of him going gray at an early age. He had told her that once she was in bed, she wasn't to get out again. He'd had to make that rule because the little girl would come up with 100 excuses to come into the living room and talk to him. Now she saved all the questions for when he was putting her to bed. 

“Yes, I did say that. But I am your father, and I make the decisions about discipline, not you. So if I tell you that you'll get a swat if I have to come in here again, then that's what will happen. You're supposed to be in bed, going to sleep. Not getting up to ask questions, and not laying here singing. Quietly going to sleep. You got that?” 

Cat's head lowered. “Yes Dada.”

Sam walked around the bed and climbed in on the other side. 

“Lie down, Kitten,” John leaned down and pulled the covers up as both kids laid down. He tucked the blankets around their shoulders and ruffled Sam's hair, and then tweaked Cat's nose. 

“Go to sleep now.” He turned to walk out of the room.

“Dada--” Cat said hesitantly.

He sighed, turning back to face the bed. “What is it?” he bit off the word 'now', knowing it would make her feel bad. 

Cat held her arms up. “I need anudduh kiss.”

“I already gave you a hug and a kiss, before.” He tried to keep the impatience out of his voice.

“Dah udder one falled off.” she explained.

“It fell off, huh?” John allowed himself to smile as he leaned down again and kissed Cat's cheek, then leaned over to kiss Sam's forehead. He kissed Cat's forehead as well. “There, now you have two kisses, in case one falls off again.” 

“Fank you Dada. I wuv you.” She smiled up at him.

John chuckled. “You're welcome, Kitten. Love you too.”


End file.
